


To A Lady Sleeping (Appearances Are Deceiving Remix)

by NEStar



Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 12:52:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NEStar/pseuds/NEStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howl watches Sophie sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To A Lady Sleeping (Appearances Are Deceiving Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [htbthomas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/htbthomas/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Appearances](https://archiveofourown.org/works/35720) by [htbthomas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/htbthomas/pseuds/htbthomas). 



> Thanks to kernezelda for straightening out the tense and wrangling the odd bits of punctuation!

He watches her sleep.

It started as a defense; after all the Witch of the Waste had been seeking him for years and suddenly this old woman shows up inside his castle. Not just inside his castle but cooking on Calcifer!

So that first night, after he was sure that Michael and Sophie had gone to bed, he crept down the stairs and watched her.

Watched wrinkled skin sag and smooth, then wrinkle again.

Watched blue veins push blood just under paper-thin skin.

Watched gray hair shift and fall out of braids.

“What is it you're not telling me, old friend?” he asks Calcifer, but the fire demon just crouches deeper into the embers of the hearth and pretends not to have heard him.

 

~*~

 

He watches her sleep.

The people of Porthaven have taken to calling her Mrs. Witch, while in the capital city of Kingsbury they address her as Madam Sorceress.

Even the palace has heard of her.

That night, after Sophie cleaned up the last of the soot from the chimney, he crept down the stairs and watched her.

Watched wrinkled skin sag and smooth, then wrinkle again.

Watched blue veins push blood just under paper-thin skin.

Watched gray hair shift and fall out of braids.

“She's not really a witch; is she, Calcifer?” he asks. “Would I have let her in if she was?” comes the reply.

 

~*~

 

He watches her sleep.

She was under a spell, he knew it. He had felt it on her, had felt it give way under his magic. Yet here she was – unchanged.

That night, after seeing that poking nose of hers turn up at Lettie's, he crept down the stairs and watched her.

Watched wrinkled skin sag and smooth, then wrinkle again.

Watched blue veins push blood just under paper-thin skin.

Watched gray hair shift and fall out of braids.

“She was under a spell,” he says, more to himself but Calcifer answers anyway. “I felt it the moment she walked in here.”

“And we broke it this morning,” he says. “Broke it to bits,” comes the reply.

“Then why didn't she change?” he asks. Calcifer remains silent.

 

~*~

 

He watches her sleep.

He had sworn to himself that Wales was to be kept separate from life in Ingary. He could have visited his family by himself – let Sophie nose all she wanted – yet for some reason he had taken both her and Michael along.

That night, after reading and rereading the Witch's curse, he crept down the stairs and watched her.

Watched wrinkled skin sag and smooth, then wrinkle again.

Watched blue veins push blood just under paper-thin skin.

Watched gray hair shift and fall out of braids.

“What are we going to do now, Howl?” Calcifer asks. “We need to think of something, need to plan.”

“Howl, what should we do?”

“Howl?”

He watches her sleep.

 

~*~

 

He watches her sleep.

It had been a full day and Sophie had done brilliantly. Was there anyone else in the world who could talk down Mrs. Pentstemmon, The King and The Witch of the Waste all in one day?

That night, after letting himself cry for his old teacher, he crept down the stairs and watched.

Watched wrinkled skin sag and smooth, then wrinkle again.

Watched blue veins push blood just under paper-thin skin.

Watched gray hair shift and fall out of braids.

“How am I going to manage it all, old blueface?” he asks. “The way we always do,” Calcifer answers.

He watches in silence for a few moments longer before confessing to himself that he's glad it is Mrs. Pentstemmon who failed in meeting the Witch of the Waste and not Sophie.

 

~*~

 

He watches her sleep.

He truly hates being sick. Even as a child the chance to stay home from school was never worth the frustration of a head cold.

That night, after his head finally stopped going round and around and he was certain he could stand without falling over, he crept down the stairs and watched.

Watched wrinkled skin sag and smooth, then wrinkle again.

Watched blue veins push blood just under paper-thin skin.

Watched gray hair shift and fall out of braids..

There is a sudden tickle in the back of his throat and he quickly races back up the stairs and through the door.

Safe.

Little does he know that the very girl he is hiding from, the girl whose courage challenged his own cowardice, has just awakened.

 

~*~

 

He watches her sleep.

He should be asleep himself, he was still sick after all, and the fight with the Witch, then moving the castle did nothing to help that.

But he can't.

That night, after tossing and turning for hours before figuring out that sleep wouldn't come until he'd seen Sophie tucked safely in her cot, he crept down the stairs and watched.

Watched wrinkled skin sag and smooth, then wrinkle again.

Watched blue veins push blood just under paper-thin skin.

Watched gray hair shift and fall out of braids.

He breathes in and out, his breath only a whisper on the wind, but overly loud in his own ears. Calcifer's flickering light bathes the room in a warm glow.

“Howl, why do you keep doing this?” Calcifer asks him, “You know that she won't hurt us.”

“Be quiet,” Howl says gruffly, “I don't want her to wake up.”

 

~*~

 

He watches her sleep.

Keeping the flower shop had been good for Sophie, at least it kept her too busy to nose about and muck things up.

That night, after she proudly set her navy blue rose into a pot on the table, he crept down the stairs and watched.

Watched wrinkled skin sag and smooth, then wrinkle again.

Watched blue veins push blood just under paper-thin skin.

Watched gray hair shift and fall out of braids.

“What do you really look like, Sophie Hatter?” He whispers, “And why do you insist in hiding it?”

“Howl, you have to stop this,” Calcifer hisses at him. “Every time you creep down here I can feel it. Something is changing.”

He studies the fire demon for a moment before confidently saying, “There's nothing to worry about, old blueface.”

Calcifer lifts his eyes to the wizard in alarm. "Oh, no! You've gone too far."

 

~*~

 

He watches her sleep.

When he first saw her after the spell came off she had seemed fragile and out of her element… yet, she also seemed stronger, and perfectly at home here at the same time.

That night, after they finally got the mob out of the castle, he crept down the stairs and watched.

Watched pale white skin pull taut over a cheek bone.

Watched a faint blue vein flutter next to the firm muscles of her neck.

Watched ginger hair spread out in waves across the pillow.

In the hearth Calcifer glows merrily. “I knew she could break the spell. Just look at me, light as a bird!”

“Yes, you're free.” He smiles down at the sleeping girl, “But my heart is still in the ownership of another.”


End file.
